Abby sat. The package in her coat pocket felt heavier now, but not in a bad way. Some meetings are accidents. Others are the universe finally getting tired of waiting.

Across the street, a coffee shop glowed amber through the storm. And there, in the window, was Diana.

“No,” Abby replied, shaking water from her sleeves. “But the rain is, apparently, a very controlling date.”

It was the kind of rain that made you forget the sun had ever existed. Abby Winters stood under the awning of a closed bookstore, her leather jacket dotted with moisture, and watched the water rush along the curb. She was supposed to be meeting someone—Darcy—a name that felt like a dare on her tongue.

“You two know each other?” Darcy asked, shrugging off her coat.

“You're not Darcy,” Diana said, her voice low and curious.